


you fly straight into my heart

by elossa



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Muggle, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 23:27:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5517086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elossa/pseuds/elossa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione finds herself repulsed enough to wrinkle her nose, but something about it makes her attention linger for just a fraction longer. It tricks her enough to wonder if there was a double entendre in his words as if he was proud of someone he barely knows – </p><p>- But this is Draco Malfoy she’s talking to. From what she gathered about him, she would be thrilled if he understood the concept of empathy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you fly straight into my heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dramione_Vincet_Semper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dramione_Vincet_Semper/gifts).



> happy christmas, BethylGrixon! i hope you like your gift!  
> ((also, many thanks to reinla who beta'd this for me!))

Though Hermione was no stranger to parties, she was a stranger to the hierarchy of drinks, or how a certain favourite cocktail told much more about one’s personality than they realise, or that a sweatshirt and jeans simply weren’t acceptable for such events. She believed that she had spent more time pondering over outfits tonight than in the rest of her life.  
  
Though the loud music and the abundance of gyrating hips did not throw Hermione off-kilter, the attention everyone seems to greet her with did. She knew that children like her, who had scholarships, were of a rarity, like Asian slipper orchids, but she felt like a painting in the Louvre: overly photographed and exploited just for her name.  
  
She felt this when Pansy Parkinson, self-proclaimed bitch of the Slytherin Dungeons – though not unrequited as the whole school pretty much thought the same thing – actually smiled at her and attempted small talk. She felt this when Luna Lovegood, a Year Eleven that Ginny used to have the hots for, bluntly tells her what everyone at school thought about her before waffling on about some obscure Plath essay everyone else believes to be a fraud. She felt this when Lavender and Parvati hung out with a bunch of older girls over her as they exchanged the latest in juicy Hogwarts gossip, her newfound association with Neville probably being one of them.  
  
Hermione gets several pints from the bar (and a shot for herself), managed by, of course, Dean and Seamus, before hurrying herself to the other end of the Gryffindor Common Room, where her friends had stolen a corner for themselves.  
  
“I can’t believe you got Pansy Parkinson to actually talk to you!” Ron says, his eyes widened in shock. “I tried to get her attention since what? Year Nine? And she barely looks at me without sneering.” He pulls a face that makes the entire table snicker. “What’s so bad about having parents that worked their way up the social ladder? I find all these old money new money stuff weird, to be bloody honest.”  
  
“You find that weird, yet you’re somehow used to the idea that Dean, Seamus and Lavender dating each other simultaneously,” Hermione interjects. She downs her shot seamlessly, ignoring Ron’s confused look. “Some people don’t like it when people mess with their status quo, you know. It can make them feel threatened.”  
  
“That could be also used in your case,” Ginny said, “their triangle is convenient for them, and so be it.” She releases a sigh. “Ron, haven’t you considered that maybe, she doesn’t do guys, and that’s why she hasn’t given anyone a chance?”  
  
“Right,” he says, with enough finality in his voice to lull the table to silence.  
  
Ginny cut through the silence with a sentence that they’d all been dreading that night. “Do any of you want to dance?”  
  
Hermione objects immediately, a motion Harry seconds. Ron grumbles, mumbling something about having two left feet.  
  
In typical fashion, Ginny drags them with her anyway.  
  
Ginny rolls her eyes as Hermione starts waving her arms about, her expression radiating nothing but confusion. “You’re not a bloody metronome,” she jokes. She begins swinging her hips, brushing them against Hermione’s, who blushes. “I’m not going to force you to do anything, but live a little. Take baby steps.”  
  
Hermione takes a deep breath and begins to imitate her friend’s motions. It feels awkward and a bit too forward compared to what she was used to, but she isn’t sexually reserved in any way and being able to dance was a positive addition to her toolbox, right?  
  
Ginny gently grips her hips, saying that she was too rickety, like an old seesaw in need of some grease, guiding her to the right feel and trying to loosen the muscles. “I’m going to take a guess and say you’ve never danced in your life,” she says. Hermione responds with a nod. “The thing about dancing in parties is to just… feel it. Feel the music in your bones, drumming your ears to deafness. Forget about your Chemistry homework and your Latin essay: you’re hot as hell and you’re here to party, and no one stops you.”  
  
“Is it really so simple?” Hermione questions. There was no verbal response, only a giggle as she tries her best to do exactly what her friend just said.  
  
Several minutes later, Hermione had drifted away from her friend, dancing with several people as the beat drops and the night ages. She even drops her guard with Pansy and Daphne and managed to dance an entire song with them, clicking their fingers and trying to see who danced the best. (It was Pansy of course.)  
  
Hermione accidentally bumps into a very drunk Vincent Crabbe, who tries to grab her arse. She yells at him, telling him to back off. When he hears this, Neville slaps him hard, a move that did not go unnoticed. It develops into a full-grown fight, with Neville quickly earning a bruised lip and Crabbe’s nose bleeding. Thankfully, Theo Nott manages to swoop in, in time in order to stop the chaos from escalating further, mostly reprimanding Crabbe and barely acknowledging the Gryffindor, who merely grins at Hermione and says that being brave and loyal feels great.  
  
Hermione sits down at the bar on her own, nursing another shot when a blond sits next to her. She turns to face him to only give a quick hello before sighing and texts her friends back home of tonight’s occurrences.  
  
“Do you know what happened down there?” he asks, taking a sip of his wine. “I didn’t think I’d ever see the day Neville Longbottom would finally get some balls and actually fight someone.”  
  
He smirks, and Hermione finds herself repulsed enough to wrinkle her nose, but something about it makes her attention linger for just a fraction longer. It tricks her enough to wonder if there was a double entendre in his words as if he was proud of someone he barely knows –  
  
\- But this is Draco Malfoy she’s talking to. From what she gathered about him, she would be thrilled if he understood the concept of empathy.  
  
“Don’t know,” she says, and the lie goes down her throat as smoothly as the whisky she drinks. “Maybe they’re both fighting over a girl, and she picked one of them and not the other.”  
  
He rolls his eyes. “Crabbe is homosexual, and no one ever goes after Longbottom. Not now, not ever.” He asks for a pint, and once he receives it he continues his train of thought. “I’m sure I’ve seen you around before. But I can’t recall where.” He strokes his chin and with a mock-thoughtful expression on his face, it makes Hermione almost scoff at how fake his mock-acting was, despite it being the whole point of this conversation. “You don’t look like a Slytherin, but you’re definitely new.”  
  
“I’m a Gryffindor,” she sighs, “and I only look familiar because we’ve been taking all of the same classes.”  
  
“Then how come, my pretty lady, have I not noticed you? There's only about 10 people in all my classes.”  
  
Hermione laughs a little too loudly for her taste; she fears she’s drunk too much, but her veins ache for fire and she needs much more to get through tonight. “I’m not pretty, but it’s a party where most are trying to get laid, so I’ll take it,” she says. “You barely pay attention to me. My friends say you’re too busy trying to pick on them to bother that someone broke your perfect test-score streak.” And I happen to be said, person.  
  
“It’s a bit of a shame, but whatever,” he says, grit lacing his voice, “who cares about getting perfect scores when the real prize is: which one of us gets into Oxbridge? That, however, is a discussion saved for another time.” He leans back as far as he can on his bar stool. “I’d like to spend tonight dwelling on teenage stupidity.”  
  
“Teenage stupidity?” she echoes, resting her chin on her palm. “Last time I checked, Malfoy, you’re part of the reason this whole tradition existed. Something about fourth year and fireworks?”  
  
“I might have started it, but I did not intend for it to escalate for an ocean of hormones and unlimited revenge fucking to be held on Hogwarts premises.”  
  
“Still. Pot. Kettle. Black.”  
  
He shrugs. “And what’s your view on that, then? Are you so perfect that you haven’t basked in your own share of teenage frivolity? Believing that life is so short that perfection must be achieved at every corner?”  
  
“Of course not,” she blushes. “It’s because I’ve made my fair share of mistakes that I realise that casual sex and a string of drunken one-night stands aren’t my thing.”  
  
He laughs. “Looks like I do have something in common with you then.”  
  
“Oh?” She cocks a brow, her expression bemused, her lips curving downwards. “I thought you of all people would be at the forefront of teenage frivolity and revenge fucking.”  
  
Draco leans in, “Well, there’s a time and place to discuss that, isn’t there? With my attention span, I think I have better things to be doing with you.”  
  
Hermione finds her cheeks reddening, and she closes the distance between them. It is gentle, only a peck, like nipping at a piece of foreign food that she had never tasted. There was a pause, her pulse deafening in her ears. He then captures her lips in his. This time, the kiss is longer, more passionate as their tongues battle and she could feel her bottom lip tingling slightly from him catching it between his teeth, and slowly the noise of the party diffuses out of her ears until she can hear nothing, see darkness, feel only his lips with hers.  
  
“Let’s go somewhere more private,” Draco whispers, ushering them to a corner of the Gryffindor Common Room that suited his intentions. Hermione tries her best not to scoff at him, barely noticing time slip by as he wraps his arm around her waist and she slowly begins tiptoeing to reach him, thankful that of all nights to mess around with Hogwarts’ dreamboat, it had to be the first party of the year.  
  
No one ever remembers what happens tonight.  
  
/  
  
_[09.50] DRACO W T F_  
_[09.50] Gdi. What is it, this time, pans?_  
_[09.50] YOU CAME HOME WITH A GIRL LAST NIGHT RIGHT_  
_[09.50] Yes ofc._  
_[09.51] WAS SHE LIKE……… FIVE FOOT FIVE_  
_[09.52] AND SUPER FRIZZY HAIR AT THE SAME TIME SUPER CUTE_  
_[09.52] Yea_  
_[09.53] YOU KISSED HERMIONE GRANGER YOU EGG_  
_[09.54] Yea now pls stop typing in all caps bc I already fucking know_  
_[09.55] But you said you fucking hate her guts????????????????_  
_[09.56] Hello?_  
_[09.59] Hellooooooooooooooo?_  
_[10.02] O m g draco answer me_  
_[10.07] I saved u pancakes and nutella frm breakfast pls love me_  
_[11.42] Also I s2g longbottom & lovegood banged last night_  
_[11.43] And maybe little weasley is kinda cute???????????_  
_[11.44] DRACO MALFOY I SWEAR TO GOD YOU BETTER REPLY TO ME OR ELSE WE WILL NO LONGER BE FRIENDS THIS IS A SERIOUS PREDICAMENT LIKE I WANT TO BANG A LOSER WHO IS OUT OF MY LEAGUE_


End file.
